My love of cars was fuelled early by my Father and his newsagent friend who owned a Mark ll Jag. I have now aspired to own an S-Type and a stunning XK8.
My earliest memories of being transported, other than a bus with driver and clippie as they were known or a mighty steam engine, came courtesy of my Grandad Butterworth with a large blue van with Liverpool Echo written all over it. No rear seat but piles of bundles, or as I later found out Quiors of returns as they called them. We, meaning myself and next doors daughter, pretended it was a barn with straw bales!
Many journeys were taken and enjoyed by us as a family. After a couple of years when my awareness of things had become clearer Dad and my Uncle bought a car between them. I was expecting a 1960’s Ford Pop which was very popular at the time. However it was not.
A Lanchester appeared round the corner. We named it Ernie It was ugly – looked like a shed on wheels with a funny black tarpaulin like roof, stained yellow windows, big headlights and what they called running boards! It would be called now a basket case.
Dad used to park round the corner on what we called the tip where the neighbourhood had a bonfire on 5th of November. Some mornings he had to bring the spark plugs home and warm them up on the gas cooker ring.
Having said that it did take us to many places even the Horseshoe Pass and over the infamous Snake Pass to Yorkshire in mid winter to a town near Barnsley called Wath-on- Dearn! We had relatives there. Ohh it was freezing and I was sat in the back with Grandad and Nana Butterworth covered with blankets. Dad had put a kind of heater in the front well he cut a hole in the bulkhead and fitted a wooden door. You got some warmth along with a bit of smoke and oil mist!
Ernie eventually expired, would possibly be worth a fortune now and worth restoration (maybe?!)
Submitted by: Leslie Butterworth
